Descent Into Darkness
by SFGrl
Summary: Jealousy and insanity lead to murder. {complete}
1. Prologue

_Descent Into Darkness_  
**Genre:** Drama, Suspense  
**Rating**: R (Story contains violence, strong language, sexual situations, and all that other bad stuff that makes it R, and NOT PG.)  
**Author's Note**: While the fic will contain some of the series' storylines, it does not follow the series timeline.  
  
~*~  
  
_Prologue  
_  
He stood in the center of the crowded street, as the harsh rain pelted his skin like a thousand steely knives. Staring up into the apartment building, he began to realize that the betrayal was complete. His mind began to process all that had happened, and he silently wondered how he had let it get this far. How had it all slipped from his control so quickly?  
He should have seen it before. He should have read the signs. He should have seen it coming, the day that he had come home, only to find his roommate—his _friend _consorting with his girlfriend. They had both denied everything, but he knew. He knew that things were not as they seemed.  
  
Then, weeks later, he heard her moans, coming through the thin wall that separated their rooms. How could they think that he was so stupid? How could they lie to his face like that?  
_  
Never again._

  
He picked up his belongings, now soaked through with rain, and shuffled down the street, vowing revenge. He would never let anyone hurt him this way again.  
They would pay for what they'd done.  
  
~*~  
  
He watched her. She was as stunning as ever. Her hair was so shiny, and the sunlight made it almost sparkle. He could watch her hair, soft as silk, brush against her shoulder softly, for hours. She walked into her dry cleaners, and picked up her black suit. She always looked amazing in that black suit. It hugged her figure perfectly. He longed to see her in that suit once more. She made her way down the street, stopping briefly to pick up a newspaper. The Times. She loved doing the crossword puzzle in the Times. Sometimes, on Sunday mornings, they would lay naked in bed together, working on the crossword, sometimes even the Word Jumble. She was so gorgeous in the morning light. Her skin would glow.  
His eyes darkened, when he recalled her betrayal, and he wondered if he had seen her in the black suit. She was nothing but a common whore. _A whore_ in a black suit. She was an evil, manipulative _bitch_, and she deserved to go straight to hell.  
  
~*~  
  
He awoke suddenly, and realized that he had spent the night asleep in his car. He slid upright, and looked up at her apartment. Her shades were drawn. She was at work. Or perhaps she was whoring. He would wait. He would wait forever to see her in that black suit again.  
  
Night was falling. The sun began its descent, and he watched her front stoop intently. Hours had passed him by, unnoticed. Then, as if on cue, she appeared. She was wearing the black suit. The black suit that hugged her body so tightly. He'd give his own life to be that suit. To hug her again.  
  
She slid her key into the front door, and he slipped out of his car. He watched her enter the building, then rushed to catch the door before it closed completely. She began her ascent up the steps to her apartment, and he watched her silently from the building lobby. He listened, as she arrived at her second floor apartment. She unlocked her door, and opened it, entered, and closed the door behind her. He made his move, slipping silently up the steps. He listened through the door, as she flipped on the television. It was _Entertainment Tonight_. She loved that damn show. He smiled, as he thought back to all of those days that he had put up with it, just to make her happy.  
He was not surprised that the door was unlocked. She was sometimes absent- minded, and would forget to lock the door behind her. He stood behind her for several minutes, as she settled into the couch, unaware of his intrusion. He pulled a large knife from his bag, making his presence known.  
  
She turned quickly, startled.  
"Wh-what are you doing here?"  
  
He smiled, and lunged toward her, covering her mouth with his large hand before she could cry out. He watched her eyes, as they widened in terror. She struggled to free herself, but the attempt was futile.  
  
The knife slid into her stomach smoothly. Once, twice, three times…and then he lost count. She cried out in pain, as he continued his assault. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her body began to soften. Her warm blood ran down his hand, then dripped slowly onto the floor. She collapsed onto the floor, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her suit was ruined. Her life was fading quickly.  
  
~**~  
  
His mission was almost complete. He walked down the street slowly, peering up toward the apartment building that he had once called home. He watched, as the _Other One_ walked out of his building, and toward the coffee shop below. He was always in that damn coffee shop.  
  
So he sat, for an hour, watching him drink coffee. When he finally left the shop, he watched him wave goodbye to his friends, the ones he had yet to betray. Then he walked down toward the Subway.  
He followed him, onto the Subway, and downtown. He watched him walk into his office building. He followed.  
  
_Never again._  
  
He watched him walk into his office, then waited for his receptionist leave her desk. He walked into the office, where the _Other One_ sat, playing video games at his desk. He looked up quickly, his brow furrowed in confusion.  
"Hey, man, what are you doing here?"  
"I've come to tell you that your girlfriend is dead."  
  
He watched, as shock and then horror crossed his face.  
  
"What? No! I...I just saw her!  What happened?"  
  
He opened his mouth to answer, but thought the better of it. He was finished talking. There was nothing more to say. He approached the desk, then pulled out his knife. The man yelled out, and tried to make his way around the desk. But he was not fast enough.  
  
The knife did not slide into his back as easily as it had slid into her stomach. But it had the same effect. He cried out in pain, and collapsed to the ground.  
  
_And everything was as it should be._


	2. The Aftermath

Descent Into Darkness  
  
Rated: R for content  
  
  
  
Chapter One: The Aftermath  
  
  
  
Ever meticulous, and organized to a fault, the mere fact the Monica had not placed the telephone receiver back into it's cradle was a glaring sign that Something Was Wrong. Ross scanned the empty apartment nervously, wondering what kind of phone call would have prompted such a panicked response from his sister. His first instinct was that it was his parents. Then, he wondered if it was one of their friends. He turned and walked across the hall to Joey and Chandler's.  
  
"Hey," Joey said through a mouthful of pizza.  
  
"Hey. Have you seen Monica?" Ross replied quickly.  
  
"No. But, I just got home, so—"  
  
Joey was cut off by the shrill ringing of the telephone.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
The hospital doors opened with an ominous whoosh, and the medicinal combination of iodine and ammonia blew out into the early evening air. Monica ran through the doors, and directly into a nurse, who happened to be crossing Monica's path.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry!"  
  
"That's alright," the nurse said crossly, making it apparent that it really wasn't.  
  
"I—I'm looking for—"  
  
"He can help you," The nurse said shortly, and pointed to the reception desk.  
  
Monica made her way to the reception desk, where she struggle for what seemed like an eternity, to get the attention of the man sitting behind it.  
  
"Can I help you?" he finally asked.  
  
"Yes. I'm looking for Chandler Bing. He was brought in a little while ago."  
  
"Bing…Bing," the nurse repeated flatly, as he typed Chandler's name into his computer, "Ah, here it is. Bing, Chandler. Multiple stab wounds. He's in surgery. 4th floor."  
  
Monica made a mad dash for the elevators, hitting the 'up' button over and over, in a vain attempt to get it to move more quickly. When the elevator doors finally did slide open, Monica barely gave the doctor inside enough time to walk out, before rushing into it.  
  
The ride on the elevator seemed to take an eternity. All the while, the nurse's words echoed in her head. "Multiple stab wounds, multiple stab wounds…" How could something like this have happened? Monica choked back her tears as the elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Hello? Oh, hey Rach. What? Wh-when? Yeah, uh, Ross is here. Okay. We're on our way."  
  
"What's going on?" Ross felt his stomach turn, as a hundred horrible scenario's danced through his head.  
  
"It's Chandler. We gotta get to the hospital."  
  
"What happened?" Ross asked, as the two men made their way down to the street.  
  
"He was attacked…at work."  
  
"What? By whom? Why would—"  
  
"I don't know, Ross!" Joey snapped, letting his emotions get the better of him. Upon seeing Ross' pained expression, he paused, and took a deep breath. "I—I'm sure he's okay…he has to be okay, right?"  
  
"Yeah…" Ross' voice trailed off, as Joey turned away to call out for a taxi.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Monica turned the corner, and saw that Rachel, pacing nervously, was in the process of wearing a large hole in the waiting room floor. Helen, Chandler's assistant, was sitting in a chair in a corner, her face pale, and her pink blouse covered with blood.  
  
"Rach," Monica said breathlessly, "What happened?"  
  
"Mon," Rachel stopped pacing and walked toward her friend, "He's in surgery."  
  
"Is he going to be okay?"  
  
"They won't tell me anything," Rachel said, as tears lined her suddenly tired-looking eyes.  
  
"Helen? Wh-what happened?"  
  
Helen looked at Monica blankly, as though she was trying to decipher what Monica had said. Then, as though a light bulb clicked on, Helen blinked, and shot Monica a sympathetic smile.  
  
"Monica…I…I'm not sure. I came back from lunch, and I walked into his office. He was…on the ground…and there was blood everywhere…" Helen began sobbing loudly, causing Monica to panic further.  
  
"Do the police…do they know anything?" Monica asked shakily.  
  
Helen shook her head. "I don't know how no one saw the attacker…I should have—"  
  
"Helen, it's okay. There was no way you could have known. I…I am going to go find a doctor," Monica said quietly, and rushed out of the waiting room.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Rach, what happened?" Joey and Ross came running into the waiting room.  
  
"Someone stabbed Chandler. He's in surgery. Monica's trying to find more information."  
  
"I—I can't believe this," Ross sunk into a chair, shaking his head.  
  
"Who would do something like this?" Joey's voice was shaky, and uneven.  
  
"I don't know," Rachel whispered distantly.  
  
The group was silent for a minute, each of the wondering why this had happened, and praying that Chandler would be okay.  
  
  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
"Please, can you tell me what's going on?" Monica pleaded tiredly. This was the third nurse she had approached, and Monica was growing more impatient with each brush-off.  
  
"Let me get a doctor," the third nurse replied.  
  
Several minutes later, a tall, gray-haired man in green hospital scrubs appeared through the brown swinging doors. He approached Monica slowly, his expression neutral and unchanging. Monica took a sharp breath, and clenched her fists tightly.  
  
"I'm Doctor Silveren," The doctor said slowly, "You were asking about Chandler Bing?"  
  
"Yes. I-I'm Chandler's girlfriend, Monica Geller."  
  
"Chandler's still in surgery. Let's go sit down, and I can explain what is happening with your boyfriend, okay?"  
  
Monica nodded slowly, and followed the doctor into the waiting room, where her friends were waiting anxiously.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
AN: Are you confused yet? LOL. Interesting guesses from you all so far…none of you are correct, though. Hee hee. 


	3. The Investigation

Descent Into Darkness  
  
Chapter Two: The Investigation  
  
The room was cold, dark, and eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, and the sleepy shushing of the respirator. The Venetian blinds cast long, striped shadows into the room. Chandler lay lifelessly on a bed that sat in the center of the room. A large breathing tube was taped onto his mouth, and deep, dark circles lined his closed eyes.  
  
The early morning light brought with it renewed hope. Doctor Silveren had told Chandler's friends that Chandler had barely survived the surgery, having suffered numerous stab wounds in the attack. His most severe injury, a punctured right lung, had caused many problems during surgery. But the worst had yet to pass. The news that there was a strong possibility that Chandler would not survive the night kept everyone awake and restless. Phoebe, who had been visiting Frank and Alice and the triplets, had made it back into town a few hours after Chandler's surgery ended. She had spent most of the evening lighting 'hope' and 'renewal' candles and singing, much to the dismay of the nurses, who ended up confiscating Phoebe's candles and guitar.  
  
Monica spent the night in Chandler's room, the only one allowed to do so. She spent most of the night watching over Chandler, sick with worry. In the months since she and Chandler had crossed the line from friends to lovers, Monica had found herself falling hard for her neighbor and best friend. Her mind often wandered back to the last time she had seen Chandler, just hours before his attack. He had left his office to meet her for lunch, and they had ended up at Central Perk, talking and laughing, and planning a romantic weekend together in Vermont. Chandler had sighed, relenting to the fact that he had to get back to the office. She had kissed him goodbye, and he had promised to try and get home early.  
  
She never, ever thought that this would be how they would spend their weekend.  
  
***  
  
Ross shifted slightly, but it was enough to awaken Rachel. She sat up quickly, initially unaware of her surroundings. She blinked several times, then realized that the nightmare she had been having was not a nightmare after all. She closed her eyes, and sighed shakily.  
  
"Excuse me, are any of you here for Chandler Bing?" An unfamiliar voice came from the doorway of the waiting room.  
  
Ross, Rachel, Joey and Phoebe all jumped to life, standing and looking at the man that they assumed to be a doctor. The dark-haired, slightly overweight, middle-aged man was wearing a cheap suit, and smelled like old cigarettes. "We all are," Ross replied. "Is he okay?"  
  
"Um, I'm not sure. My name is Greg McMillan, and I'm a detective with the New York Police Department. I need to ask Mr. Bing some questions. Is he awake?"  
  
"No," Monica said softly, her arrival in the room timely, to say the least. She looked haggard and tired, and much older than her years. "He's not awake. He's not doing well."  
  
"I-I'm very sorry. Are you his family?"  
  
"You could say that, yeah," Ross said quietly.  
  
"Then maybe you can help me. I'm trying to figure out who did this, and why, and I have a few leads, but it seems that no one in Mr. Bing's office saw anything. They claim that there was no unusual activity around the time of the attack. We are having some trouble putting all of this together. Do you know of anyone that had any reason to do something like this?"  
  
"No. No one. That's what makes this so shocking to us," Rachel explained.  
  
"Do you know a." Greg flipped through his spiral, leather-bound notepad slowly, ".a Tilda Marks?"  
  
"Um, no," Ross said, and the others shook their heads silently.  
  
"Okay, well, thank you," Greg said, and turned to leave.  
  
"I'm sorry, um, who is Tilda Marks?"  
  
"She's another stabbing victim. She was attacked about an hour before your friend was."  
  
"And you think there's a connection?"  
  
"It's a lead we are looking into," Greg said cryptically.  
  
"Is Tilda here at the hospital too?" Phoebe asked.  
  
"No. She.she did not survive her attack," Greg said softly, then left the waiting room.  
  
***  
  
Monica felt her eyes growing heavy, but that was the last thing she remembered. Sleep crept over her without warning, taking her into a dream that she had had many times before. She was walking down the aisle, at her perfectly-planned wedding, toward a faceless groom. Lately, the groom's image had begun to fill in, with what Monica suspected to be Chandler's face. But on this night, the image was again fuzzy, and the Groom stood much further away than he had before. The changes frightened her, and shook her back into consciousness.  
  
It took her a few seconds to realize that it wasn't the dream that had woken her up.  
  
Two nurses and a young doctor came rushing into the room, as the alarms on Chandler's respirator continued to blare ominously.  
  
Monica was pulled back and away from Chandler without resistance. Her body had gone numb, and a strange haziness consumed her, as she watched the doctor and nurses work furtively over Chandler's lifeless form.  
  
***  
  
Detective McMillan sorted through Tilda Marks' personal belongings slowly, his head swirling with unanswered questions. His eyes landed on a worn photograph, and he struggled to remember the name of the person that was pictured with the victim. He'd seen this guy somewhere...  
  
"Any luck, Greg?" Martin Howard, Greg's longtime friend and fellow police detective, walked into Greg's office, and plopped himself down on a chair.  
  
"I think.we may have a suspect. And something tells me that this case and the Bing case are connected."  
  
"Nothing connects the cases, Greg. You said that his friends had never heard of Tilda Marks."  
  
"No, but I have a.feeling."  
  
"Man, you *always* have a feeling," Martin laughed, then left Greg's office.  
  
Greg bit his lip, and picked up his telephone.  
  
"Annie, can you pull a file for me?"  
  
***  
  
Greg pulled into the hospital parking lot, and turned off his car. He hoisted himself out of his car, and snuffed out his cigarette on the pavement. As he made his way up to the hospital, he saw a familiar face sitting on a curb outside of the automatic sliding doors of the main entrance.  
  
"Excuse me, uh, you are one of Chandler Bing's friend's, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, uh, I'm his roommate, Joey."  
  
"How's he doing?"  
  
Joey shook his head, and looked past Greg, into the silent parking lot.  
  
"He's.it doesn't look good," Joey finally whispered.  
  
"I'm very sorry," Greg said, quietly, as he sat down next to Joey. Greg's concern was genuine. He needed Chandler Bing to stay alive.he was the only witness Greg had.  
  
"I couldn't stay in there. It's too much, ya know?"  
  
"Yeah. Hey, listen, Joey, I know that this is a bad time, but, can you take a look at this photo for me, and tell me if you recognize the man in it?" Greg pulled out the photo he had been studying earlier.  
  
Joey took the photo, and looked at it silently. His expression changed immediately, and Greg knew, at that moment, that he had his suspect.  
  
***  
  
AN: Okay, now you all know who it is, right??? 


	4. A Killer Revealed

AN: Ugh!! I am so annoyed! I had this all done, then somehow it got corrupted, so I have to re-write it, and now it's gonna be crappy. Ah well.  
  
Descent Into Darkness  
  
Conclusion: A Killer Revealed  
  
"Hey, listen, Joey, I know that this is a bad time, but, can you take a look at this photo for me, and tell me if you recognize the man in it?" Greg pulled out the photo he had been studying earlier.  
  
Joey took the photo, and looked at it silently. His expression changed immediately, and Greg knew, at that moment, that he had his suspect.  
  
***  
  
He sat in his apartment, gnawing on his fingernails nervously. The police had nothing yet, so far as he could tell. But Chandler was still alive, and that wasn't good. He had to find a way into Chandler's room somehow. He grabbed his jacket, and walked out of his apartment. As he peered down the stairwell, he saw several uniformed police officers ascending the staircase. Biting his lip, he turned and headed back into his apartment, out the window, down the fire escape and into the night.  
  
***  
  
Monica sat in the far corner of the waiting room, trying desperately to block out the image of Chandler in the other room. She closed her eyes, and let out a shaky breath, and ignored the tears that rolled down her cheeks.  
  
"Mon, maybe you should get something to eat."  
  
Monica opened her eyes, and peered up at her brother. Ross looked sad, and exhausted, but he also looked concerned. Concerned more for her than for Chandler at the moment.  
  
"I'm fine, Ross. I-I can't eat right now."  
  
"But-"  
  
Ross' argument was cut off when Joey came back into the waiting room, his face slightly flushed.  
  
"Hey, any news?" Joey asked breathlessly.  
  
"Not yet." Ross asked.  
  
Joey nodded and paced around the room, biting his nails. He looked up and began to speak, but was interrupted when Dr. Silveren came into the room.  
  
"Monica?" the Doctor looked stressed.  
  
"Is he okay?"  
  
"He's.stable. But I have to be honest, it doesn't look good. We've really done all we can for him. I'm sorry." The doctor then began relaying their options, and wanted to know if any of them had spoken with Chandler's parents.  
  
Monica's mind began to drift. This wasn't supposed to happen. She couldn't even remember her adult life without Chandler, they'd known each other for so long. And the six of them were a unit. The unit didn't work without its parts. They couldn't lose Chandler. They couldn't.  
  
Monica wandered back into the conversation when Dr. Silveren mentioned a "living will". Her shoulders suddenly straightened, and for the first time in days, she spoke above a muted whisper.  
  
"Chandler is going to be fine. He's strong, and he'll get through this."  
  
"But Mon, the doctor thinks that-"  
  
"I don't care what the doctor thinks Ross. He doesn't know Chandler like we do." With that, Monica rushed out of the room.  
  
"I'm sorry, she's just-she's upset." Ross said.  
  
"Believe me, this isn't the worst reaction I've experienced," Dr. Silveren laughed sadly and left the room.  
  
***  
  
Monica walked into Chandler's room slowly, and fumbled toward his bed. The room seemed much darker, somehow. She took Chandler's hand in hers and bit her lip. How was she going to live without him? She closed her eyes, and did something she hadn't done in a very long time.  
  
She began to pray.  
  
She stopped when she heard a squeaky skid behind her-a tennis shoe dragging along the linoleum floor. She turned in time to see a large figure lunge toward her. She let out a scream and ducked away from the attacker. She ran toward the door, but was tripped by the attacker, as he grabbed her leg and pulled her back toward him. Monica elbowed the man in the stomach, and as he yelped in pain, she realized that the voice sounded strangely familiar. She tried to turn, but the man flung her into the wall. As she fell, Monica's leg yanked out several tubes and wires on Chandler's machines, setting off an array of alarms. Monica scrambled for the door, as Chandler's vital signs dropped rapidly. The attacker moved in on Monica, but before he reached her, the door swung open, flooding the room with florescent light. Several doctors and ran toward the attacker, and others tried to attend to Monica. But she shook them off, urging them to help Chandler. She looked at the now-silent monitors, and realized that it was too late.  
  
***  
  
~Three Days Later~  
  
"Did they ever figure out how he got into the room? I mean, only Monica was ever allowed in," Rachel sat in the window sill, swinging her leg casually.  
  
"He said he was Chandler's brother. I mean, you'd think with his attacker on the loose, they would have at least checked." Monica shook her head.  
  
"Yes, but then they would have found out that you weren't his fiancé," Ross pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, are you trying to tell me something?" Chandler asked from his hospital bed.  
  
Monica walked over to Chandler's bed, and sat down next to him.  
  
"Don't worry, babe, there's no pressure," she laughed, and kissed him tenderly.  
  
"Well, I am going home. See you tomorrow, Chandler," Ross said, obviously still disturbed by the image of her sister and best friend kissing.  
  
"I'm with you," Rachel said, as she hopped off the ledge. "Joey and Phoebe will be here in about an hour."  
  
"Okay, see you guys tomorrow," Chandler said to Ross and Rachel's retreating figures.  
  
Monica sighed as the door to the room closed. She looked down at Chandler, who was looking at her strangely.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm just happy you're here," Chandler smiled.  
  
"I'm happy YOU are here," Monica said softly. "I thought I'd killed you when I fell on your machines."  
  
"The doctor seems to think that the sudden shock was what pulled me out of the coma. Weird, huh?"  
  
"And ironic. Eddie was here to kill you, and yet he inadvertently saved you."  
  
"Yeah," Chandler nodded distantly. "I keep thinking about that day. Before he attacked me, he told me that my girlfriend was dead. I have never felt a worse pain than when he said that to me."  
  
"Why did he think you were dating Tilly?"  
  
"Ugh, long story. She returned a fish tank one night."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
Monica shook her head, and lay down next to Chandler.  
  
"I'll tell you one thing. Joey is NOT moving out again." 


End file.
